That night,
Both Moi and Waite had trouble sleeping.
Moi even made several phone calls, but Waite didn’t pick up.
Eventually, Moi simply stopped calling.
Since battle was inevitable, he wouldn’t back down, but he wanted to prove with facts that he, Moi, was not the scher behind this. To deal with Waite, he didn’t need such despicable ans.
"I can take you down head-on."
That was Moi’s confidence.
He just hoped the situation wouldn’t spiral completely out of control.
...
The next day.
Both went to work with dark circles under their eyes.
And they began attacking each other.
At work, in public opinion, in voting, their differences in factions grew more and more apparent, unabashedly so, although the national TV station didn’t report anything about "Black Waite" the next day.
But the word had already spread.
Private TV stations took over the direction of public opinion and began extensive reporting on the differences between the two in Congress and other aspects. Gradually, the whole affair seed to be on the verge of coming to light.
In the eyes of the public,
Waite must have targeted Fuloz initially.
Later, when Moi realized it, he started going after Waite.
And that’s how it escalated to the current situation.
For a mont,
The dostic scene in Congo Gold buzzed with activity.
The public watched Moi and Waite’s tit-for-tat, their conflict deepening day by day, and their perception of the two started to drastically change. Initially, they just felt Moi was incompetent, but now Waite didn’t seem like any good either.
If that were the case,
Then their only choice was to select from other presidential candidates.
And for this reason, all the presidential candidates have been quite active lately, appearing frequently in the public eye. Although many people didn’t know what exactly was going on, fighting for their own chance, maybe fate would smile upon them.
Watching these people suddenly erge,
Moi and Waite’s focus was disrupted. Following the principle of greatest interest, any of these presidential candidates could be the one, but there were more than ten, each one acting equally eagerly.
Who knows which one it could be.
Worriso.
In just over a week,
Half of Moi’s hair had turned white.
And Waite wasn’t faring much better.
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Having walked into a trap of their own making, yet still clueless about the whole event, they seed enveloped in a thick fog, groping without finding a way out. If this continued, things would truly beco unmanageable.
He too would completely lose any chance of rising to power.
...
That evening,
Dragging his tired body,
Waite returned ho.
He grabbed a bottle of fruit wine and poured himself a glass, savoring a delicious sip.
He absolutely adored this wine.
It’s just a pity that it’s so scarce; even his own stock was limited to just a few cases. This thing was a complete luxury here, with Black Market prices already exceeding three thousand US dollars a bottle, six tis the retail price.
But at least he was a person of status
He could buy a certain amount of fruit wine at the original price, a privilege the local distributors offered to penetrate the market. And Waite, his fixed monthly allowance was just one case.
Plus his pre-ordered share.
He never really ran short of the stuff. As for why he could afford it, it’s simple: there’s no requirent here for the President and officials to be poor. On the contrary, many high officials co from tribes and family backgrounds.
Very wealthy.
After all.
Playing mind gas.
Requires a certain educational background.
In this country where basic education is almost non-existent, being able to afford schooling indicates that the family is exceptional.
However, even if Waite has plenty of goods, whenever friends and relatives visit, be it for gifting or hosting, there’s hardly anything left over in the end. But Waite isn’t worried—once he ascends to power, he’ll have more fixed and discretionary shares.
"Sniff..."
Waite’s spirit cald a lot as he gently inhaled the rich fruit scent.
Reflecting on the chaos of the week.
Still without a clue.
Just as he suspected that the Supre Court incident was orchestrated by Moi, this wasn’t unfounded—his channels indeed received information that Fuloz had beco an assassination target.
So.
Can he confront the Supre Court now?
Clearly, he can’t.
Otherwise, should anything happen to Fuloz during this period, Moi could potentially bla him. And Moi has not attacked the Supre Court during this ti, nor has he maneuvered any developnts regarding Fuloz, which truly confirms this point.
Of course.
Moi might have other considerations.
If this wasn’t a play directed by Moi, hearing what he had said that day, taking a better-safe-than-sorry attitude, Moi would definitely prefer to keep Fuloz inside—at least it’s a bit safer there.
Before the situation becos clear.
The current situation is that neither of them can challenge the Supre Court.
"Sigh..."
Waite downed a glass of fruit wine in one gulp, took a long sigh of relief, and felt a warm sensation in his stomach. Drinking this wine not only helped him quit so bad habits but also cured his stomach ulcers.
Regarding this.
Waite was secretly amazed.
He didn’t know the full extent of this drink’s effects and how much has yet to be discovered, but it’s imaginable that the manufacturer is making a fortune. As no one has cracked the secret ingredients, the product remains unique.
In the foreseeable future.
Others will earn even more.
But Waite doesn’t feel envious. With so many tycoons in the world, if he envied them all, what would be left of him after going through the rich list, then sulking in his room? It’s aningless.
At this ti.
His Black butler walked in.
"Mr. Waite, Mr. Lance has requested to see you. He ca alone as usual and didn’t say what it’s about, but he ntioned it’s definitely sothing you’d be interested in. Shall I let him in?"
Waite was surprised.
Lance?
"Let him in," Waite said.
He was inwardly puzzled, wondering what this man wanted with him. Their interactions were not frequent, but the man was strong and generous, so he helped him with a few tasks.
The butler took the order and left.
A few minutes later.
He led in a Black man dressed in a suit and leather shoes. This man had a unique deanor, and his smiling face was as refreshing as a spring breeze, more approachable than any politician, certainly a handso fellow among Black n.
"Haha, Mr. Waite, greetings, it’s an honor to see you again," Lance ca forward and gave Waite a big hug, smiling.
After they separated.
They sat on the sofa. Waite poured Lance a glass of wine. With a clink, they each drank, and after taking a sip, Waite asked with a smile, "Lance, my friend, what brings you here today?"
"Mr. Waite, I’ve heard you’ve been having quite a bit of trouble lately." Lance put down his glass and got straight to the point, the corners of his mouth ticking upward.
Waite was taken aback.
Not here to ask for a favor? And it was not like him to bring up a sore point. "Yes, things have been sowhat difficult recently, a lot of troubling issues have arisen, but it’s nothing." Waite forced a smile.
Lance shook his head, his smile turning mysterious as he said, "Mr. Waite, I’ll get straight to the point. I’m not here to ask for a favor, but to help you sort out these troubles.
As for compensation, we from the Black Market hope to gain the friendship of the future President of Congo Gold—that is, your friendship, Mr. Waite."
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